


Knock Once, Knock Twice

by Impala_Chick



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, American Revolution, Banter, Blow Jobs, Folklore, M/M, Nature Magic, Non-Linear Narrative, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Pining, Pre-Canon, Season/Series 01, Sexual Tension, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 18:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17751569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: When Ben didn’t come back when he should have, Caleb desperately needed information. He couldn’t leave his own company without looking like a deserter or worse, a lovesick fool. But he also wasn’t going to be able to keep up appearances if he didn’t know whether Ben was dead or alive. As it was, he couldn’t sleep, he had already dropped two dishes during mess duty, and his aim was slightly off. Being in this state just wouldn’t do.So he consulted the trees.





	Knock Once, Knock Twice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aleksrothis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/gifts).



When Ben didn’t come back when he should have, Caleb desperately needed information. He couldn’t leave his own company without looking like a deserter or worse, a lovesick fool. But he also wasn’t going to be able to keep up appearances if he didn’t know whether Ben was dead or alive. As it was, he couldn’t sleep, he had already dropped two dishes during mess duty, and his aim was slightly off. Being in this state just wouldn’t do.

So he consulted the trees.

\---

Caleb first heard the whispers when he was a child.

He and Sam ran through the woods of Setauket to hide, while Abe counted. Caleb broke to the left, and Sam ran to the right, and it wasn’t long before Caleb had gone very far afield from his friends. 

He hadn’t been lost long enough to panic, but the way the silence pressed in on him made him feel peculiar. He ducked behind a large tree for good measure, suspicious that maybe Abe was brave enough to come find him. 

As soon as he laid a hand on the tree’s thick bark, _something_ grumbled. He felt it through his palm, a slight tremor as if the tree itself was communicating. Caleb ripped his hand back as if he’d been burned, and stumbled back into the foliage. He stared, holding his breath.

“Ah, you can hear me?” A voice asked, tentative at first.

“Who’s there?” Caleb yelled as he whipped his head around. “If that’s you Abe, I swear I’m gonna-”

“Hush. It’s been awhile since I met one like you. And only a child? This is most odd.” The voice was more forceful now, louder. 

Caleb stared that the tree, watching it as the words were spoken. He noticed the branches swaying slightly in his direction, as if they were making an effort to reach him.

“Are you friend or foe?” Caleb finally asked as he got to his feet, his whole body tense.

“That depends,” the voice said. Caleb circled the tree, trying to find the source of the voice.

And then the tree shook mightily, and the voice barked out a booming laugh. Leaves rained down on Caleb as the branches purposefully strained to touch him.

Caleb took off running back the way he came, terrified that the voice would follow him. When he finally found Abe and Sam, it was nearly nightfall.

He didn’t tell them anything about the tree, or the voice. 

\---

Caleb waited until it was dark to leave the Continental Camp and sneak out to the forest. He peaked out from under the tent flap to look around, but no one else seemed to be awake. He ducked between tents, careful to avoid the night sentries who were posted near the front of the camp. He reached the last row of tents and walked past the edge of camp.

Complete darkness sometimes still unsettled him, but tonight he had a very particular reason for being out in the woods and he was fairly confident the trees would not begrudge him this one request. After all, the lot of them were a bunch of gossips and he was about to reveal one of his deepest secrets to them. 

He darted through the trees until he found a Chestnut tree with a trunk larger in diameter than a wagon wheel. He rapped his knuckles against the bark once, waited a heartbeat, and then knocked again.

As Caleb laid his palm against the trunk, he felt the tree sigh and push against him slightly. 

“Hello, Caleb,” it said in greeting. The voice was feminine and soft. It sounded friendly enough, but Caleb knew how quickly that could change. 

“Ma’am, I have an important question for you.” Caleb didn’t waste any time getting to the point. 

“And what’s in it for me?” the tree asked. Caleb smiled and crossed his arms, having known already that she would ask. 

“I’m willing to give you information in exchange,” Caleb said conspiratorially. 

“What kind of information? You realize I know most things already,” the tree pointed out, her voice suddenly sharp and condescending.

“This involves a matter of the heart,” Caleb answered gravely, pointing at his own chest. He worried about the consequences of making such a personal admission out loud, but leaving without an answer was not an option. 

“I agree, then. What is it I can do for you?” The tree’s voice was friendly again.

“I need to know what has happened to Benjamin Tallmadge.” 

“And your matter of the heart?” The tree’s branches started to lean downwards, its ends poking Caleb’s arms intimidatingly. Caleb stood his ground, and inhaled sharply. 

“I love him,” he breathed out. The words felt strange on his tongue. But they were true, and Caleb felt lighter for having said them.

The tree trunk shook slightly, as if a tremor was pulsing through it. The branches relaxed and pulled away from his skin.

“That is information I can work with,” the tree said slowly. 

“And the answer to my question?” Caleb prompted, impatient.

“He was shot, but he’s alive. Trudging through the woods now, on his way back. And he’s alone,” the tree added. Caleb could practically hear her winking suggestively, even though the tree had no face. Caleb sighed, relieved. 

“My brothers and sisters will try to protect him,” the tree added. Caleb groaned.

“I do appreciate the sentiment but I think you lot might just scare him out of his mind,” Caleb said. The tree laughed, a sound that was sweet and harmonious. 

Caleb weaved his way back through the forest. None of the trees tried to talk to him or tease him, which was just as well because Caleb was busy preparing to act surprised when Ben came back.

\---

Caleb was 15 when he was taught the rules of the forest. 

He was out wandering, hoping to find a tree large enough to practice throwing his hatchet, when a smaller Chestnut apparently took pity on him. 

“Caleb, you mustn’t throw that without asking permission,” the voice said suddenly, making Caleb jump in surprise. He whirled around, his hatchet raised in defense, even though he suspected that he would see no one else.

“I thought I told you, I didn’t want to talk to you anymore!” Caleb screeched up at its branches. He had already decided that the talking trees must be a figment of his imagination, and he had hoped never to hear them again. 

“Knock once for the asking, knock twice for the thanks,” the tree told him solemnly, ignoring his outburst. The voice was kind and motherly, and Caleb sighed. 

“What if I don’t do as you say?” Caleb asked, his hatchet still raised. There was no response. 

“What if I don’t?” Caleb yelled this time, and still got no answer. He eyed a larger Chestnut tree about 2 or 3 yards away and gripped the handle of his hatchet with both hands. He flexed his arms, drew back, and let his hatchet fly. It turned end over end until it plunged into the bark of the Chestnut he was aiming for. 

And then the tree started screaming. 

It was high pitched and deafening, resembling the cries of a child, but the noise wasn’t human. It echoed through the forest, and Caleb pressed his palms to his ears in a desperate attempt to block out the noise. 

When that didn’t work, he raced forward and pulled his hatchet from the bark. The branches of the tree pummeled him when he was within reach. Some managed to strike his face and back, and he fell to the ground. He clawed at the dirt and scrambled to get back up. He ran until he could no longer hear the tree’s cries. When he stopped for breath, at the edge of the forest, he felt the cuts on his face and arms. He was surprised when he looked at his fingers and saw blood. 

The day Caleb learned the rules was also the day he decided to head out to sea, and get as far away from the forest as he could. 

\---

The relief that Caleb felt after being told that Ben was alive put Caleb in good spirits. He only slept for a couple of hours, and woke with the sun to help with the morning camp chores. He spent the rest of the day helping with weapons inventory. He whistled while he worked, and people gave him strange looks and raised their eyebrows at him but otherwise he was left to his own devices. 

Darkness had just started to descend when Caleb heard some soldiers walking back from the latrine gossiping about how a Lieutenant had returned without the rest of his Dragoons, and without his horse. Caleb quickly learned from those soldiers that a medley of fantastic rumors had already spread through the camp. Some said Ben showed up wearing Queen’s Rangers gear covered in blood, others said he was wearing a British Major’s jacket and was missing a leg, and still others said he showed up completely naked. All of them sounded equally unlikely, and so Caleb ignored them all in favor of finding Ben himself.

Caleb went immediately to the doctor’s tent, but Ben had already been whisked off for a debriefing. Apparently he had been wearing Queen's Rangers clothes, though. Ben was quite the legend already. Caleb decided to mill around outside the Officer’s quarters until the meeting was over, growing anxious as each minute ticked past. Now that he knew Ben was alive, he was free to worry about other things like how bad his gunshot wound was or whether he’d be pleased to see Caleb. 

Finally, Caleb saw the General stomp down the steps and walk off to his own home. Before the door had a chance to swing closed, Caleb walked past the threshold and stepped into the living room.

Ben was seated at a chair by the fireplace, his whole body stiff. But he immediately cracked a smile when their eyes met. Caleb breathed a sigh of relief as he looked at Ben, all in one piece.

“How’re ya, Benny boy?” Caleb said, his voice soft. He saw the long white bandage wrapped around Ben’s shoulder and wound around his torso, and he noticed the way Ben gripped his own thighs tightly, like he was angry. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with something fierce. 

“It’s been a fuckin’ day, Caleb,” Ben sighed.

“Aye,” Caleb said in agreement. Caleb slowly rounded the table to approach Ben, waiting for Ben to say something more. When he didn’t, Caleb pulled him into a hug, his arms around Ben’s shoulders and his cheek resting against Ben’s own. He gently skimmed his fingertips over Ben’s shoulders as he pulled back, and attempted to get a closer look at Ben’s wound even though it was covered by a bandage. “You gave me quite the fright, there.”

“Did I?” Ben asked, amused.

“Arse,” Caleb grumbled, as he put his hand on Ben’s head to muss his hair. 

“Hey, you know I hate that.” Ben shook his head to get Caleb to stop, and Caleb pulled back his hand. 

“Just for old times’ sake,” Caleb teased. “Reminds me of when you were younger.”

“I’ll always be younger than you, old man,” Ben teased.

“Har har,” Caleb said as he rolled his eyes. But they both laughed then, and the tension Caleb had been carrying with him was starting to dissolve.

Ben’s eyes turned earnest as he took a deep breath, as if to speak, and Caleb stopped laughing. 

“After the events of today, an idea has occurred to me,” Ben explained. He leaned forward, but winced in pain when his body reminded him that probably wasn’t the best idea. Caleb reached for him, but Ben sat back and nodded to show that he was okay. Caleb relented, and pulled up a chair with a smile. Clearly Ben was feeling better, if he was up for scheming.

“Do tell.”

\---

Caleb learned that the trees dealt in matters of the heart because of Ben.

After his first whaling trip to Greenland, Ben had only gone to Setauket long enough to kiss his mother and hide some of his money under a floorboard in the house before he was back aboard a ship. There were no strange voices while he was out at sea. Just the howling wind, and the crash of waves against the hull, and the thrill of chasing a powerful whale as it swam through the ocean. 

When Caleb returned from his second whaling trip, he took more time off to visit old friends and enjoy some of his earnings. On his second day back, he walked over to visit Sam, and Ben was the one who answered the door. Caleb knew Ben only as Sam’s little brother before then, but Ben was older, and his face was much prettier than Caleb had remembered. He smiled up at him, his eyes the purest blue Caleb had ever seen. They reminded Caleb of the ocean. 

“Caleb Brewster? Welcome home,” Ben said, his smile bright and genuine. He ushered Caleb inside, his hand very obviously stuck inside a book to hold his place. Caleb found that rather endearing. Caleb also couldn’t help but notice how Ben had filled out since Caleb had last been in Setauket, and cursed himself for noticing. 

Maybe he’d been out to sea longer than was healthy for a man of his age. 

On that day, Ben disappeared back upstairs and Caleb and Sam joked around over a pitcher of ale until Caleb tired of such diversions and headed home.

But the next day, Ben showed up at his doorstep with a glint in his eye and a hatchet in his hand instead of a book.

“My brother says you’re the best marksmen in Setauket. Can you teach me?” Ben asked.

“If you’re teachable, I can teach ya,” Caleb teased. He joked around to hide his discomfort, because such a request meant that Caleb was going to have to venture into the woods. The only way other options were to use the side of the house, or set up some firewood as targets, but those logs were too thin and wouldn’t stay upright on their own if Ben managed to hit them. But Caleb already knew there was no way he was going to say no to Ben.

So Caleb trekked into the woods, Ben right on his heels. 

He found a suitable tree that looked old enough not to mind. He knocked once, then twice. Caleb stood back, waiting. He glanced over at Ben, who was watching him curiously. 

“You’ve got to respect the woods, you know,” Caleb explained, his voice light. Ben rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything more. Caleb was grateful that Ben didn't ask any questions.

Finally, the tree shook its trunk slightly and spoke.

“Very well, Caleb. But you have been gone a long time.” The voice was deep, and clearly annoyed. Caleb normally would have made some witty retort, but he wasn’t about to make himself look like a crazy person in front of Ben. 

He steered Ben away from the tree until they were a good distance away, and then Caleb proceeded to show him how to hold the hatchet. He put his hands over Ben’s, and pulled Ben’s arm back over his shoulder in order to prepare for the throw. He felt Ben suck in a breath when Caleb stepped up close, and Caleb grinned inwardly. It seemed that his touch was having an effect.

Caleb stepped back to make the first throw with his own hatchet, and then he motioned for Ben to proceed. Ben put too much heft into the toss and did not keep an eye on his target, and the hatchet sailed past the tree they were aiming for and plunged into a much younger Chestnut that was situated just past the right one. 

“Shit,” Caleb muttered just as the tree started to wail. 

Ben laughed nervously, embarrassed and completely unaware that the tree he had hit was making sounds as if it had been mortally wounded.

“Okay, okay,” Caleb said as he ran to pull out the blade. He wanted to flee, but he knew that such a reaction would be hard to explain.

“Alright, a little help here?” Caleb said under his breath, hoping the older tree would answer. 

There was a heavy sigh, loud enough to be heard over the wailing of the younger tree.

“I’ll tell them to quiet down, if you tell me something I don’t know,” the tree said as its branches leaned menacingly toward Ben. Caleb glanced over at him, scuffing his booted toe into the dirt, still embarrassed and completely unaware of the danger just above his head. 

“Like what?” Caleb hissed.

“Matters of the heart are most valuable,” the tree said. 

“Well, I don’t know anything like that… Except. Abe Woodhull. He still loves Anna Strong, but he’s marrying someone else,” Caleb whispered, hoping that would do the trick. He felt bad about spilling his friend’s secret, but then again he couldn’t be sure what would happen to Ben if he didn’t.

The tree shook again, and then the forest was quiet. Caleb proceeded to knock on all the trees that circled the biggest one, just to be safe. He glanced over at Ben, who quirked an eyebrow as he watched Caleb. Caleb flashed a bright and flirty smile, with the intent of distracting Ben. And it must have worked, because Ben didn't comment on his odd behavior as Caleb made his way back over to where Ben was standing.

He corrected Ben's finger placement on the handle, and gripped Ben’s hips to bodily position him so that he was facing the target tree. Ben threw his hatchet with Caleb’s hands still lingering at his waist, and missed the target. The blade plunged into another tree, this one closer than their chosen tree. Ben failed spectacularly at least four more times, with his hatchet either landing in the dirt or in the wrong tree.

Caleb didn’t laugh, because he remembered when he had first learned and he definitely hadn’t become an expert in a day. Caleb reminded Ben to breath and focus on one tree at a time. Ben chewed his lip in determination, took a deep breath, and hit the right tree.

Ben whooped in celebration, and Caleb swept him up into his arms in a celebratory hug. His perseverance had paid off. Ben nuzzled his nose into Caleb’s neck, breathing softly, and the hug suddenly turned much more intimate than Caleb had originally planned. 

Caleb debated for a moment whether to push the intimacy farther, his heart beating frantically with the knowledge that Ben liked to be held in his arms. Leaves started to fall around them as Ben gripped him tighter, and Caleb didn’t know if the trees were communicating something positive or negative. There was always something watching in the woods, that much was clear. Caleb pulled back from Ben’s grasp, careful to avoid meeting Ben’s eyes lest he see something that could be taken as an invitation. 

“Uh, a few more like that and you’ll be good to go,” Caleb said as he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’m 16. And I’m leaving for Yale soon,” Ben said, his voice confident. 

“And you feel like you need to be able to throw hatchets before you go?” Caleb asked, half joking. He had an idea of what Ben was getting at, and he was fairly sure it had something to do with the way Ben had clung to him. After all, Caleb had been 16 once and he knew full well the way desire could cloud one's mind at inopportune moments.

“Just wanted you to know,” Ben muttered. Caleb resolutely did not let on that he knew what Ben was thinking, and they continued to practice until it started to get dark. Caleb walked Ben home, his hand on Ben’s lower back until they hit the edge of the Tallmadge property line, just because he knew Ben would let him.

\--- 

“I think we might be able to pull something like that off,” Caleb admitted once Ben finished explaining his intent to set up a spy network. Admittedly the plan _was_ a little crazy, but Ben was already committed. Which meant Caleb was committed, too. 

“Good.” Ben nodded. He tried to stand up, but the effort it cost his body to get up from the chair proved to be too taxing, and he stumbled as he took a step forward. Caleb instantly stood up to catch him. Caleb’s fingers curled over Ben’s biceps, his skin firm and warm from the fire. 

“Steady there, Tallboy. Why don’t you have a seat,” Caleb coaxed.

“Don’t baby me,” Ben chastised, his eyes squinted in annoyance. But he let Caleb manhandle him back onto the chair, and the musky scent of blood and sweat swirled around Caleb. Holding Ben so close was as intimate as they’d ever gotten, and Caleb’s body was responding. 

“I could never mistake ya’ for a babe. You’re too heavy,” Caleb said. Once he deposited Ben into the chair, he collapsed onto the ground in an effort to bolster his joke and hide his arousal. He winked at Ben, and Ben laughed heartily until it started hurting and he had to grab his sides. 

Caleb looked up, and Ben’s face was outlined by the warm glow from the fire, and his long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. With his head thrown back the way it was, the long lines of his neck and adam's apple were on display. The plan to crack a joke and slack Caleb’s thirst backfired, because seeing Ben laugh had only made it worse.

They were alone in the house, and they were both warm and reasonably comfortable. Circumstances such as those were hard to come by, because such were the sacrifices of war. Caleb decided he couldn’t afford to pass up such an opportunity. He got up from his arse and kneeled at Ben's feet. He was eye level with Ben’s bandages, but he was definitely not staring at Ben’s bandages.

Ben stopped laughing and breathed in sharply when he noticed Caleb’s position, and how Caleb's gaze was directed at Ben's crotch. 

“Caleb?” Ben said around a swallow. Caleb glanced up, and took note of the way Ben’s cheeks were quickly turning pink. Ben’s eyes were firmly locked on Caleb’s own, and he looked nervous but not disgusted. He flicked his tongue out to lick along his plush bottom lip, and Caleb knew then that Ben was still interested in him.

“Ever done this before?” Caleb asked, his voice rough already. He kept his hands on his thighs as he watched Ben’s face.

“Done what?” Ben asked carefully, his eyebrow raised. He rocked his hips forward slightly, teasing. He’d gone from innocent to playful in two seconds flat, and damn. Caleb was into that.

“I thought you said not to baby ya,” Caleb said. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on Ben’s thighs, and ghosted his breath over Ben’s dick, just to up the stakes. He could already see the outline of it pressing against Ben’s breeches.

“Would you beg for it?” Ben asked nonchalantly. 

“Don’t you wish,” Caleb answered lazily. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, what with the way Ben was making quick work of his breeches and pulling out his cock. The head of it was flushed red and leaking, and the sight made Caleb salivate with how bad he wanted to fill his mouth with it.

He looked up at Ben again. His gaze was focused on Caleb’s mouth, and his eyes were clouded with want. Caleb dove forward, eager to please. He sucked, his lips tight around the head. He pushed the flat of his tongue along the underside of Ben’s cock until Ben groaned like a feral animal. Caleb pulled off to spit into his hand, and then made a fist around the base of Ben’s cock before licking underneath his head again. Ben’s thighs were trembling against Caleb’s cheeks, and Caleb slowed down enough to sneak a glance at Ben’s face. He was still looking down at Caleb, his pupils blown wide. The firelight cast dancing shadows across Ben’s cheeks, and Ben’s blue eyes stood out starkly against the orange glow cast by the flames. 

Caleb got back into a rhythm, his lips tight around Ben’s cock as he bobbed up and down. Caleb’s fist moved up Ben’s cock, following his mouth, so that he could touch all of Ben at once. Caleb wanted to see him lose control, and preferably as quickly as possible. The crackling of the fire were drowned out by the wet, sloppy sounds of Caleb sucking cock.

Ben had managed to stay polite for a good while, but then Ben reached down and pushed his hand into Caleb’s hair. Ben’s other hand rested against Caleb’s bicep. The heavy, musky scent of Ben’s arousal was in the air, and the smell egged Caleb on.

And then Ben’s fingers tapped once, twice, against Caleb’s arm, and he shot his load down Caleb’s throat. The mouthful caught him by surprise, but he swallowed anyway, proud and pleased that he could get Ben off even in the state of pain Ben was in. 

“Fuck,” Ben groaned. He reached down to pull Caleb up, which was just as well because Caleb’s knees were starting to protest. As Ben tried to position him onto his lap, Ben noticeably winced from the pain of his wound. 

“Bed,” Caleb grunted, too focused on alleviating Ben’s pain to form a full sentence. He put one arm under Ben’s knees, his other arm around Ben's shoulders, and plucked him up from the chair to carry him off to bed.

Later, after he assured Ben that his pleasure could wait until Ben got some goddamned sleep, Caleb reveled in the blessed quiet.

\---

The trees were the first to tell Caleb the war had begun.

He had heard rumors while at sea, and when he’d returned to Setauket, the town was definitely on edge. Many of his old friends had already joined the militia. The war seemed inevitable, but then Caleb saw Ben again and wished it wasn't so. Ben came back from Yale even more heart achingly beautiful than Caleb remembered. Ben's eyes burned with an intensity that was unmatched when he spoke of liberty and representation and democracy. So Caleb dutifully cleaned his musket, left Setauket with Ben, and was proud to call himself a Yankee. Still he hoped that King George would relent.

He should've known better.

It happened one night when the rest of the camp was still asleep. The sentries hadn’t rushed through the tents to wake anyone up. There hadn’t been any heavy footsteps, or wagon wheels rolling over rocks and dirt roads. There hadn’t even been any gunshots.

But Caleb was awakened by guttural, desperate screams. Inhuman screams. The trees were afraid.

There was nothing Caleb could do to silence them.

**Author's Note:**

> I took the magical realism/folklore prompt and ran with it. Caleb always struck me as someone attuned to nature, and yet he loves the sea. I played with that contradiction a little bit here.
> 
> I based the tree magic off of research into the folklore surrounding the ["knock on wood"](http://www.touchwoodforluck.com.au/history/) saying, as well as some general folklore on [plants](https://gardenerspath.com/plants/plant-folklore/).
> 
> Also, the [history of the Chestnut Tree](https://www.acf.org/the-american-chestnut/history-american-chestnut/) in New England is quite interesting and tragic.


End file.
